


the prison of your regard

by ElasticElla



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/F, Season/Series 06, Sharing a Brain, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: There is a certain moral lassitude required in becoming immortal, becoming a goddess really.It’s a shame Clarke would fit in so well.





	the prison of your regard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).

It’s not _just_ because of the body, though Josie will be the first to admit a certain weakness for blondes. You never quite shed your first skin, what things felt and tasted like, how you see yourself. (Her father claims to be beyond that, yet somehow he keeps being put in the most suburban dad bods.)

Clarke may have made her finger twitch a few times, but this isn’t the first rebellious soul she’s overcome. She’ll have to kill her soon, Josie knows that- she’s gone deep enough into the girl’s thought processes to estimate her reactions. But Clarke is _fun_. It’s like having an exotic pet in her head, beautiful and deadly and endangered. She always wanted a snow leopard as a kid, a gorgeous cuddly monster, and this is the closest she’ll ever get. 

Josie’s a scientist first, wants to learn all she can from her latest host before disposing of her. The girl is a mess of contradictions, from how she sees herself to others, honestly believes she’s become a better person since she’s moved on from killing the masses directly to indirectly. Clarke’s a survivor- as if Josie didn’t know that already by the girl still being in her head- could allow anything as long as her family stays in tact. (Who that is may not be as well defined, another point of amusement.)

There is a certain moral lassitude required in becoming immortal, becoming a goddess really. It’s a shame Clarke would fit in so well. (She loves Gabriel, she does. But there’s only so many murder attempts she can take over the years before looking at alternatives.)

Not that any of this matters. Unless her father’s willing to kill every last one of the invaders, Clarke will always be a threat. A pity really, nothing like a touch of genocide to incite nationalistic fervor. Especially since the populace hasn’t been as reverent since the new people showed up. Well, she’ll have to make tonight count. 

Clarke is absolutely livid at being left alone for a day, jumps up when she sees Josie enter the cell, her face bright red, and fists raised. “How did you trap me here- this is my own head! Let me out dammit!” 

She sighs, a couch and handcuffs popping into existence, clicking shut around Clarke’s wrists.

“My side, my rules. You know this. Are you going to be good today?”

Her glare doesn’t diminish, but she sits down. “More trigedasleng lessons?”

“No, I’m good with dead languages.”

Clarke can’t hide a flinch, and Josie giggles, sitting beside her and erasing the cuffs. “Kidding. I would have brought the memories with me.” 

“You said-!” 

“I know,” she interrupts, sliding a hand through Clarke’s hair. “You or them, and you made your choice. Very selfless.” 

“You’re done with me,” she murmurs, eyes going distant. 

Josie scratches under her jaw, is gratified with how quickly Clarke’s focus comes back to her. “Not quite.”

It takes her a moment, her voice flat, “You’re kidding.” 

Josie twirls a piece of Clarke’s hair, and there’s something satisfying about doing it to another person, or perhaps just to her latest model, giving it a little tug. “I saw your, not dream, fantasy I suppose?” 

It’s a complete shot in the dark based on their other similarities, but Clarke swallows and _yes_, best hostile takeover ever. (It may just be a delaying tactic on her part, but Josie can work with that.)

Josie doesn’t wait any longer, crashing their mouths together. It’s odd to be on the other side of a body she’s been trying to learn, wonders if the slight differences are from her memory or Clarke’s, or simply a matter of perspective. Her shoulders are rounder, callouses rougher than expected, and Josie’s so very curious to wake up again and re-examine her body. 

Clarke weaponizes her touch, teeth sinking into her lips, knees shoving her thighs too wide, short nails digging into her hips. She kisses long enough that her lungs are screaming for air, and no matter the dream logic Josie thinks to herself, she has to break away. 

Victory is stunning on Clarke, and without an ounce of modesty- to be fair it is something they’ve both seen before- Clarke pulls her top off. Josie pulls her into another heady kiss, cupping her breasts, and only moans are exchanged for the following hours. 

.

Josie doesn’t usually do post-coital cuddling. Then again, she also doesn’t usually play with her pets in a mental playground. The intimacy is as unnerving as it is delightful, and Josie tries not to think about the fact that she’ll never be able to do this with another person. To hold them fully within herself, to consume them in all ways. (Josie has finished learning all of Clarke’s memories, could pass for her if need be without getting caught this time.)

“It’s modeled after an escape room,” Josie suddenly confesses, needing to think of something else. 

“Hmm?” Clarke’s hand pauses before returning to skimming up and down her side. 

“That’s why you can’t get out, it’s a puzzle. My mom made the whole family go one year, I hated those things.” 

Clarke exhales an almost laugh, “I can’t imagine anyone forcing you to do anything.” 

She preens, thumb dipping over her collarbone. She should paint herself again, in this body. Or maybe both of them, now there’s an interesting challenge. Wonders what it would be like to paint herself on Clarke’s skin, could spend forever toying with the concept. 

Josie stands up, dawn is approaching and today is a rather long day. She doesn’t kiss Clarke again, would give the game away if she did. 

“Tomorrow?” Clarke asks. 

“Tomorrow,” Josie agrees. Either way, tomorrow it will happen. Waking up, she hears Clarke’s last whisper, close and soft enough to send chills over her ear. 

“I don’t want to die.” 

Then again, Josephine thinks, her birthday _is_ coming up. Maybe she can convince her dad to allow a little mass murder.


End file.
